


A Dust of Fur and Magic

by MiaaMaay



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witches and Familiars, Background HankCon - Freeform, Cats, Eventual Smut, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Modern Setting, More tags as the story goes on, RK900 referred to as Nines, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-21 02:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaaMaay/pseuds/MiaaMaay
Summary: The case drags itself on, only leading to more and more dead-ends. Gavin is a person of action. Being denied such leads up to frustration and built-up anger, turning him into a ticking time-bomb. And his dwindling magic isn’t helping much. At least the stray cat with a taste for lemon sorbet of all things keeps him somewhat distracted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know how I promised you guys a whole lot more hankcon? ...... Well. I couldn't help myself to mix it up with some mopey asshole Gavin and some disciplinary action with RK900 as its enforcer. M SORRY PLEASE LOVE ME
> 
> (May add / edit tags and summary as the story goes on)

Familiars have been around for decades. Supernatural beings associated with the faery race no-one really knew a whole lot about. They had been rare, only a few having trespassed the line to our universe before, choosing a human to stay with or saunter back to their realm after a while. Up until two decades ago.

They were known to enhance a witch’s abilities, to power up their efficiency and impact. An unlimited power source, creatures with the energy of a dozen nuclear reactors cramped into a small, fragile looking form. They appear as pets like cats and dogs or even wildlife such as deers, foxes and more. Gavin’s even heard about a familiar with their form of one of an elephant’s. But they could also turn to one of a human’s. Why that is, no-one knows. It’s one of the world’s best held secrets, and the familiars lips are sealed. They rarely reveal anything about their nature, their realm or what their purpose is.

It started in 2012. The creation of hex-tech, as they call it. A combination of magic and technology – nature’s power source and human-made machinery. It didn’t take long until it was used to bind a familiar to one and keep it not only as a pet but a personal power-bank, like some phone charger. But one company took it a step further.

CyberLife, a technology company on their way up, has hit the headlines many times before, but their coup in 2018 lead to a series of controversial discussions. They had managed to find a passageway to the faery-realm – and Gavin has the urge to laugh every time he hears it because faery-realm just sounds so stupid – and rip the small companions straight into their facilities like picking ripe apples from an apple tree. They were commercialized, because of course, with America being the first country to not only allow but form laws around it.

Coming 2020, it was common to buy familiars in CyberLife stores or order them on the Internet. Gavin had been eighteen around then. He remembers the first time he’s been at one of the stores with his friends in tow, taking a look at the various kinds. Some were sold cheap, not worth more than a mid-range smartphone. Others were more expensive, depending on the form they’d chosen or their abilities.

It was weird the first time he’s seen a familiar in its human form with a price-tag around its neck.

The concept however was easily accepted. Soon China followed, then Europe, and then familiars could be bought in each and every country around the world. Because familiars ripped right out their realm could be easily manipulated, and bend to each and every wish without as much as a complaint. They didn’t show any signs of discomfort whatsoever, and it was known that they couldn’t feel pain or anything at all, really. They were seen as tools, objects to channel the magic of their bonded witch. Gavin has burned through a string of familiars himself, none of which had been able to handle his impulsive character. He hadn’t cared, not really, since they’d just become a liability at some point and kept him from doing his job as a Detective. So, he’d simply filed in a report and demanded a replacement. It’s been like that for years, a normal part of everyone's’ life.

In 2038, almost twenty years after the opening of the first store, familiars started to act up seemingly out of nowhere. Weird cases of faeries going rogue, killing its owners, labeling it self-defense. It wasn’t unknown for some witches to treat their purchases badly to the point of being totaled and they had to be dumped back into their realm as a result.

It all escalated after, more and more familiars becoming deviant, forming large groups of resistance. A rebellion lead by a familiar in the form of a cougar. He’d quickly acquired a huge flock around him, gathering thousands of deviant familiars to protest against their enslavement and to demand a status as people. And it has worked.

Just when the year turned thirty-nine, society has been charmed and familiars were granted equal rights. CyberLife was forced to close the gate connecting the two realms, prohibited to farm more familiars (and to prevent them from coming through). From that point on forward, familiars were free to choose where to go or where to live. Some even stayed with their humans, some picking other partners – since it’s still beneficial for both to pair with another witch – or choosing to live on their own. Others simply went back to their own world.

The more it had hurt however when Tina had up and left with an apologetic smile on her face. It had been the longest bonding partner Gavin has ever had, almost three whole years where the others had only ever lasted weeks or months at most. He’d even thought they were friends, in some way. The faery-like creature however didn’t – or so he tells himself – and instead chose another witch over him. Some ‘Traci’ also working at the precinct of the DPD. Somewhere in hex-tech lab. Gavin hadn’t really listened. He’s just felt utterly  _ betrayed _ . Of course he couldn’t force her to stay, not anymore, but he had hoped against all logic that she’d stick around when the news had spread.

But he should’ve known. Nothing and no one ever sticks around where Gavin fucking Reed is involved. It’s just his life. Family, friends and now familiars, it’s always the same. Goddamn  _ pussies. _ He came to accept that he had to do his work alone now that no familiar has ever come around. Not after months and months of waiting to  _ be _ chosen instead of choosing. He’ll just have to prove that he can handle his magic without one, that he doesn’t need anyone but his own wit to do his job. Should be easy enough.

\---

“Fucking  _ retard! _ ”

His phone clatters across his desk where he throws it in frustration, likely getting a crack or two in the process. He doesn’t care. The call has been  _ pointless _ . He definitely should just dump Lucian’s ass and get a new informant. The guy hasn’t been able to give him even  _ one _ ounce of valuable information during his last two cases, and it doesn’t look like he can do now.

Gavin throws himself back into his chair with a growl and runs his hands through his hair, annoyed. This case has been filled with dead-ends and loose speculations from day fucking one. He doesn’t know what other strings to pull anymore since nothing seems to lead him anywhere. It doesn’t help that his neck and shoulder area are killing him, his muscles bundled up in tight knots that don’t let him sleep at night. It’s the stress, he supposes. Fowler’s breathing down his neck and it’ll get worse if he doesn’t deliver soon.

He hears the familiar beep of the security gate that leads to the open bullpen, turning in his chair just enough to see. Hank’s strolling in, his hair pulled back in a messy bun or whatever it’s called, a result of his familiar partner Connor having called it cute or some shit. Gavin wants to puke whenever he’s reminded of the unfortunate scene he’d accidentally stumbled into. Said poster-boy is missing now however, and in its stead is a sturdy Labrador with a shiny black coat sashaying behind the man.

“Is it bring-your-pet-to-work day or what, Anderson?” Gavin snides in greeting, wondering if that’s the dog Hank’s supposed to have. He eyes the breed curiously, only then noticing the collar around its neck. A familiar then.

The thing with familiars is – and isn’t that just dandy – that humans are usually only able to recognize one as such when they switch from their human to their animal form. For that they were required to wear a sort of band on them, a sort of juiced up magic chain, either around their neck or as a bracelet, emitting a soft glow of magic and binding their power to their respective owner. But that was before the revolution.  _ Before _ you had to question yourself if the stranger you just passed was normal or some undercover faery. Because most have laid them off by now, only a few choosing to keep a band on their body without its binding restrictions either as a sign of defiance, loyalty or indifference.

“Piss off, Reed…” Hank grumbles, passing by Gavin’s desk without sparing him another glance.

“Finally scared the rookie away? Or did he just get tired of your old, drunken ass and horrendous taste in music?” he continues, ignoring the side glances and eye-rolls he earns from his colleagues around him. He needs to vent some of his pent-up anger or else he’s gonna blow.

Both Hank and the dog stop, all but frozen before they slowly turn their heads around in union. Gavin would’ve laughed if he didn’t think that he’s missing something, a crucial part judging from the look on the Lieutenant’s face that tells him he’s more of an idiot as originally expected.

“What?” Reed asks, not letting himself be thrown off, his smirk as broad as ever before it suddenly hits him. Like a freezing bucket of water splashing over him. He stares at the dog who blinks back with its big, brown eyes and a tilted head that’s too close to Connor’s trademark to be anything but.  _ Of course it’s fucking Connor. Who fucking else would it be?! _ Granted, he’s never seen the familiar in its animal form, like,  _ ever _ , the guy preferring his human one for some reason, but it doesn’t justify just how brain afk he’s been just now. A slow grin spreads on the Lieutenant’s face, and Gavin has the urge to punch it off him. He grits his teeth, humiliated by his own misstep. He jumps up from his seat with his body vibrating with rage and embarrassment.

“Yeah, right, just laugh, asshole! I bet you also like  _ fucking  _ him in this form, don’t you?!” that whips the smirk right off the man’s sunken face. With cruel satisfaction he watches the older man’s face contort from shock into a searing glare, but he doesn’t stop. He’s never been good at telling when it’s better to stop, always powering through. It’s a blessing on the field, but a curse otherwise. “I bet bestiality does read good with all your other achievements like coming to work hungover and reeking of vomit every other day, am I right? Like it’s your fucking life goal to have that written on your tombstone!”

“You little-” Hank starts with a dangerous growl, stepping forward but is interrupted by the Captain bellowing through the office.

“REED! In my office, right now!”

It’s like being called to the principal’s office all over again. Why the fuck does Fowler’s office have to be made of  _ glass _ , perched in the center back of the bullpen _. _ He winces, knowing full well that he’s in deep shit, but it’s nothing he’s new at. So instead of doing the right thing and follow the man’s order like any sane person would do who wants to keep their job, he plasters on another shit-eating grin and turns towards his boss. The one who could easily fire him on the spot.

“Sorry chief, but I’ve got a fucking job to do!”

And with that he storms out the building, ignoring the shouts following him. Fuck them, fuck familiars, fuck the Lieutenant and fuck this case!

He keeps growling and mumbling under his breath all the way to the very back of the parking lot, crouching down when he’s reached the spot between the abandoned patrol car and the unkempt hedge he uses as his secret hiding spot. He fumbles out a cigarette and his lighter from his jacket pocket, hoping he wouldn’t also get caught smoking in public spaces for fucks sake, and takes a long drag after it’s been lit. The familiar burn in his lungs already taking off some of the edge. Sometimes he wishes the magic in the world would just extend to some Harry Potter level shit so he could magic away all his problems with a simple spell. It sucks that it’s not. But it sucks even more that he has to live with the fact that his own miserable abilities are slowly but surely dwindling the longer he’s without a familiar. Just some bullshit on top. It’s common that a witch’s power dries out with the years. There are rumors that it hasn’t always been that way, that Rome has been built by only a handful of exceptionally strong witches.

Reed remembers the time when he was just a kid, where everything touched or even coughed at by magic had a glimmer to it. Because he’s able to see it – magic, that is. Has left a distinct taste on his tongue. He remembers pretty Cheryl’s from Highschool tasting like strawberries, glowing all pink and purple, and goddamn Justin’s tasting and looking like dogshit. Had also acted like a piece of shit.

The first time he’s seen a familiar, before CyberLife, before anything. It had shone so bright, like some supernova; he hasn’t even been able to distinguish what its form had been. All he’s seen had been a ball of light, forcing him to close his eyes as not to get blinded.

It’s what had led him to this career. He’s always been good at tracking, the energy flowing through his veins helping him to spot clues when others couldn’t, traces of magic and ill-will. Now though, he has to squint when he wants to see the traces or remnants. The taste gone entirely. It only ever lives up when he’s bonded with a familiar, lending him the strength he needs to see, to use what has been effortless a long time ago. What does he have over some furry faery when it eventually disappears?

He sighs defeated, shoulders sagging. The metal of the car’s door is cold against his back when he leans against it, even through his jacket, and so is the snow dusted ground against his ass when he lets himself slide down. Not even spring dares to show its face and it’s April already. Fuck climate change. Taking another drag, he stares ahead blankly while he ponders about what to do next. He could head home, bury himself in his bed and sleep away the day in hopes that coming morning he’s formed a plan out of this pile of shit. In fact, it does sound so appealing that he doesn’t even bother to think about another option. Now the only thing he has to do is to muster up the strength to get into his car and drive home.

The smoke gradually leaves his lungs when he exhales, forming a thick cloud before it’s swept away by the wind. Movement out of the corner of his eye has him look up and to his right. Ice-blue orbs surrounded by black fur and two perky ears stare at him from on top of the car’s hood, blinking lazily at him.

“Of course it’s you…” Gavin scoffs, but is secretly delighted to see his little friend he’s helpfully dubbed Fucknugget. The black cat with the stunning eyes has been loitering on and around the precinct for a month now and has become Reed’s silent listener ever since. “You stalkin’ me again or what?”

Fucknugget only blinks in silent reply.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket distracts the Detective momentarily, but he ignores it with a huff. He bets it’s Fowler. The cat tilts its head, eyes fixed on the source of the noise, reminding Reed of a certain familiar he doesn’t particular fancy to think about right now.

“Shit day…”, Reed explains unnecessarily to fill the silence that’s quite common when you’re talking to a cat. He takes a last, long drag before stubbing out the cancer stick. “A shit, fucking, lousy day. Just like the past few days. Hell, just like the past few  _ weeks. _ ”

The cat stays poised like a statue while he rants, continuing to watch him with those calm, patient eyes. Gavin turns to watch the occasional snowflake fall before the background of gray and gray that is the city of Detroit.

“It’s all bullshit. Case is going nowhere, and I might as well be jobless by now.”, he grouses before standing back up eventually. “Might as well head home when I can’t get anything done here.”

The black-ball-of-fur’s eyes widen a fraction, ears rotating to the side before it suddenly disappears behind the car. Gavin thinks he might’ve scared it off at first, but soon even he can hear the approaching footsteps. He glances over his shoulder only to roll his eyes with a groan.

“Yo, dipshit!” Tina calls out cheerfully.

He  _ really _ doesn’t want to have to deal with his former familiar now (and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s still hurt by her dumping him). He stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads for his car, fumbling to get the control panel out.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know!”, the faery persists, hot on his heels. “You’ll have to talk to me eventually!”

“I don’t have to do nothing, so piss off already!”, he growls but his voice betrays him, making him sound petulant rather than a threat.

Tina huffs when she finally catches up to him. She’s just a bit smaller than him, but her big mouth can make up for the lack of height. Now however she seems to get that he’s not in the mood for some friendly banter – hasn’t been for a while – an instead looks him up and down silently, calculating.

“Bit of a commotion you’ve caused in there, huh? What happened?”, she eventually asks, even sounding sincere. As if she cares. As if  _ it _ cares, he has to remind himself. It’s still a familiar he’s talking to. It’s easy to forget sometimes, especially with Tina. She doesn’t have that stick up her ass like most others, but from what she’s told him she’s been around humans for quite some time.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even spare her a glance when he finally gets his car open and tries to slip inside but gets stopped by a firm hand on his elbow.

“I fucking told you to-”, he starts, teeth bared, but doesn’t get much further with the cold bucket of lemon sorbet being shoved in his face. “What the- Where the fuck did you even get-”

“I thought you might want something to cheer you up.”, she shrugs. “And let’s get out sometime! My invitation still stands – first drink’s on me, alright?” She grins, but it’s not reaching her eyes. They flicker over his face, glowing softly as she’s searching for something a human eye can’t possibly perceive. He doesn’t know what she’s hoping to find, and frankly, he doesn’t care (or so he tells himself).

“Will you leave me alone if I tell you I’ll think about it?”, Gavin grouses, deflated.

Tina’s whole demeanor changes and she beams up at him, jumping on the spot and punching him in his shoulder –  _ hard. _

“Fuck yeah! I finally got the butthurt Reed to say yes!!”, she cheers as if she’s just won the lottery. It’s almost endearing, but Gavin doesn’t  _ do _ endearing.

“Hey, I said I’ll think about it! I didn’t say yes!!”, he calls after her when she hop-jumps back towards the building, rubbing the spot where he’s been punched. It really hurts...

“Call me when you’re free! You’ve got  _ one _ week!”, she cheers on, completely ignoring his protests.

“I hate you, you know!”

With a lift of her middle finger over her shoulder, she’s gone. He knows she’s given him an out should he really not want to go, leaving it to him to make a call. She’d otherwise loved to simply show up on his doorstep and drag his sorry ass out – that’s just how Tina is and how it was  _ before _ – but whatever it is that’s between them now is raw, tender, like an open wound and Gavin hasn’t been one to add anything to it.

He shakes his head with a sigh, looking down at the bucket of ice-cream in his hands that’s slowly but surely numbing his fingers, just then noticing the number written with black marker on the front and ‘CALL ME’ below it. Damn familiars.

He’s all but ready to get home now. When he looks up the familiar color of gray-blue stares back, veiled by the shadow of a car. Always watching from some hidden spot. Gavin opens his car door further and points inside.

“Wanna come?”

It wouldn’t be the first stray he’s picked up, and definitely wouldn’t be the last. His own litter at home proves just that. Fucknugget however either doesn’t get the message or doesn’t want to get too friendly with Gavin. Hasn’t even allowed to be touched no matter what Gavin brings it in offering. Figuring the miniature panther was more of a silent listener than a cuddler, but that’s what Reed loves about them. The variety of character, with the undertone of asshole rooted tight in all of them. Just like him.

When a minute or so passes without either of them moving, the Detective eventually gives up and gets in himself. He’s got better shit to do than trying to get acknowledged by a fucking cat.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day finds him straight inside Captain Fowler’s palace of glass aka his office. As predicted, he gets reprimanded and threatened to be taken off the case if he doesn’t improve both his behavior and results. Easy to say, he thinks bitterly. The Captain isn’t the one having to dig up the worst of the worst to get a new lead that might or might not be futile. His surprise however is evident when he learns that neither Anderson nor Connor have filed in a report against him, the lecture only being based on what Fowler has witnessed the day prior. Biting his tongue, he barely refrains from making a smart remark here and there, knowing fare well that he can call himself lucky to still have his badge on him and instead answers with clipped ‘yes, Captain’, ‘no, Captain’, ‘it won’t happen again, Captain’. He can’t help the spiteful remark however when Fowler tells him that he’ll be partnered up soon.

“It’s neither safe nor smart to let you handle this case alone. I’ve waited in hopes you’d come to me on your own terms, but I was mistaken. And this decision is final.”

Fowler keeps his lips sealed when Gavin asks if it’s going to be another person or a familiar, and it bugs him more than it probably should. He doesn’t want a partner. He doesn’t  _ need _ a partner. Human or not. He works best alone, can handle the same workload a duo can. Fowler should goddamn know this! And no one can get in his way or complain about his unconventional ways of handling a case. Each scar on his body tells a story which combined would fill a whole book, but it’s a small price to pay to gain the trust he needs to get the bad guys behind bars quickly. Most would take months of undercover social gambling where he can do it in a few  _ weeks. _ Organized crimes, human and familiar trafficking, homicide – you name it. He’s  _ good _ at what he does, because he’s just as bad as them, in a way. Takes one to know one. How could some struck-up familiar, even with their unlimited superpowers, compare to that? They could never fit in as human, they lack the soft skills. And if they  _ don’t _ their true nature, they’re just some snack in the eye of a mob boss.

Mood successfully ruined for the day, he doesn’t want to deal with the bear-twink duo and keeps his distance, or at least he tries.

Connor sneaks up on him just after lunch break when he’s in the middle of crossing out places that’d be worth to take a look at, hoping to find another connection or anything, really. The familiar places a cup of freshly made coffee on his desk, the steam rolling off of it invitingly. Gavin raises a brow at the gesture since it’s been a kind of joke between them – or possible more for Gavin than for Connor, really – that the perfect faery glittery creature can’t even make a damn coffee. He’s been giving Connor shit no matter what, and he would do so now if it weren’t for Fowler currently watching the scene from behind his desk like a bulldog looking for a fight.

The familiar smiles, dimples and all. Reed wants to punch him.

“A peace offering, Detective. No hard feelings.”, he says and fucking  _ winks _ before strolling back to his place. He stares perplexed at the back of Connor’s head, then looks over to Hank who’s fixing him with a raised brow and a daring look. Reed curses them all under his breath but sullenly accepts the caffeinated drink. He turns back to work, adamant on ignoring them and the world. He does get another few hours of peace, and even gets a few possible entry points for his case that lift his spirits a notch. Not enough to attune him bearable, but it’s a start. At five on the dot however, when he’s ready to head home, there’s a large hand on his shoulder, pulling him up and away from his terminal.

“We’re going for a drink. I’m buying.” Anderson announces gruffly before Gavin even has the chance to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, being roughly pushed towards the exit and all. Over his shoulder he sees Connor wave them goodbye.  _ Awesome. _

“This some sort of intervention?”, he barks.

“Call it whatever you want.”, Hank replies cryptically.

They round the precinct and another block before they enter a small bar on a corner that has more class than most holes the Lieutenant usually frequents. Reed’s even been to it once or twice to get one for the road on particular strenuous days. They sit down on the padded bar stools, Gavin still watching the old geezer beside him skeptically, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s only somewhat allayed when there’s a glass of whiskey placed in front of them respectively.

“So what, you gonna scold me like some kid and tell me if I ever say a word to you or your pet again you’re gonna break my bones?”

“No.” Hank say, calm and collected as ever, briefly glancing at his hostage that is Reed before taking a swing from his drink.

“You’re gonna ask me some soul-searching bullshit? Like what fucked up shit’s happened in my childhood that turned me into the asshole I’m now?” Hank wouldn’t be the first, and probably not the last. They could all go fuck themselves for all he cares.

“No.”, the Lieutenant repeats, twirling the ice in his drink.

Well, Gavin still thinks that something is fishy, but he won’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. He shrugs and downs his drink in one go before ordering a refill right after. May as well burn a hole in the asshole’s pocket. The burn down his throat is a welcome distraction, and soon a familiar warmth is spreading through his body, already loosening some of the knots in his shoulders.

“I hope you remember you were also one to trash talk those faery bastards. You’d jump into a conversation as soon as they were all but mentioned, no matter the context.”

Hank hums, not denying it as he watches the ember liquid.

“You're not getting an apology from me, just so you know.”

Hank shrugs. “ 'didn't expect one.”

“Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between them while they nurse their drinks, the remaining tension pushed to the back for the time being. Reed is grateful for the lecture that has never come. After his third whiskey he switches to beer, knowing that if he continues that train he might not make it to work the next day, being too busy emptying his intestines down the toilet.

“So…”, he eventually begins with a slight slur to it, because he can't keep his mouth shut for too long. Also, the alcohol may have loosened his tongue even more. He notices that Hank's still at his second serving, wondering if his familiar might have something to do with that or if he's just not in the mood to get utterly wasted. “You two fuckin’?”

Hank looks up, ripped from his own train of thoughts as he blinks at the Detective beside him.

“I'm not sure how that's any of your business.”

“It's the whole reason why we're here, isnit?”

“We're here because you are full of shit, Reed.”

“I'll take that as a yes.“, he smirks and Hank rolls his eyes. “How does that even work? I thought they don't do the nasty.”

“You're aware that there are actual  _ brothels _ with familiars only, right?”

“Yeah alright, I  _ know _ , but aren’t those like forced to do that? Even now?”

“Do you think they would still be in business if their  _ employees _ are being forced to stay? I mean, there might be a few like that still, and I think Chris is onto one of’em, but most are clean as far as I know.”

Well, he’s got a point, Reed thinks. Not that he’s put much thought into that anyway. There’s another beat of silence before Gavin can’t help to pick up the original topic.

“So between you two-”, but Hank cuts him off before he can say much more, fixing him with a I’m-done-with-your-bullshit-look.

“You really want to know? Fine. Yes, we fuck. I’ve fucked him in my bed, fucked him in my kitchen, hell – we’ve even done it in my  _ car _ and I tell you my back had been screaming at me the following week.” Reed balks at him, not having expected the sudden outburst. But Hank isn’t finished yet, not in the slightest. “Does he like it? You should hear the  _ sounds _ he makes.  _ Beautiful. _ Do I force him? Absolutely not. If anything, I’m worried about my dick falling off soon – he’s become an insatiable little sex-monster, and you can guess what’s waiting for me when I get home.” He shakes his head with a smirk, gulping down the rest of his poison with a satisfied sigh before facing him once again. “So yes. I’d say familiars do enjoy sex just as much as humans do. How come you don’t know that?”

Reed’s face has turned into one of disgust, the images that have involuntarily burned itself into his mind scaring him for life.

“Because I’m not sticking my dick into everything that moves?”, Gavin snides, making Hank huff out a laugh.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Reed snorts, not even offended. He might’ve been like that when he was in college, but not now. He doesn’t have to time to fuck around that much anyway. And he can’t say that one of them has stuck around for more than a few months. Sucks to be him, he guesses.

Beside him, Hank clears his throat.

“But really, you should give them at least a chance. And I don’t mean the sex thing. They’re not that different from us.”

Now it’s Reed’s time to roll his eyes.

“You know that the position Connor’s blocking could’ve been filled with some guy, a  _ human _ , who’s in need for a job, right? Those familiars are even getting paid! For what? They don’t eat, they don’t sleep, they wouldn’t even need clothing if it weren’t for society because they don’t get cold!”

He stares at Hank, hoping to remind him of the many talks they had at very similar nights like this.

“I know. But Connor’s not even getting half of what I’m getting, and he’s giving it to me anyway.”

“So what, it’s all a means to enrich you?”

“No. He wants to help, Reed.” Hanks looks at him, crystal blue eyes burning with an intensity Gavin had thought it all but died after his son’s death. “He  _ cares. _ And he’s a good fucking cop. He wants to help people, and isn’t that why we’re both also doing this? Some ideological hope that with each bad guy caught, the world might be a teeny tiny bit safer? That maybe there are  _ some  _ who don’t deserve the shit the world throws them in? And then there are those assholes, murdering others to fill their kink. Getting them behind bars, seeing their white faces when you put them into cuffs…” He throws his head back when he empties his drink, the glass hitting the counter with a loud  _ clank  _ right after. “Honestly, it lets me sleep better at night. Knowing that that bastard can’t harm anyone else. And if my cases are being solved at a much faster rate because a single familiar is lending me a hand? A supernatural being with some weird superpowers and a goofy face? I’d take it over days or even weeks of research.”

Reed stares, looking for any ounce of doubt, tracing the deep lines on the man’s face with his eyes, but finding none. He grunts and shakes his head, concluding that Hank is way too compromised by having a romantic relationship with a familiar. They could easily overpower men someday, and Reed’s apparently the only one seeing this. It sounds like some weird conspiracy, but he’s not some ignorant flat-earther. Hank must notice that he’s not up for argumentation, and wisely steers the conversation into other, non-familiar-related areas. Mostly work, Chris’ poor luck with women and so on. Office gossip. Despite everything, Gavin finds himself enjoying the company of the old man – not that he’ll ever admit it. He’s easy to talk to and can talk shit below the belt just like him. But he’s known that, it isn’t their first night out. Although that was  _ before. _ Fuck, this is becoming a theme.

As promised, Hank pays for all their drinks, leaving Reed with a pleasant buzz. He’s needed that, he realizes, and even lets himself be dragged out by the very same hands that’d brought him here without much protest. Cold air hits him in the face when they leave the sheltered place, clearing his mind enough to listen.

“You’re taking a cap, alright? Fowler’s really gonna dump your ass if he’ll find out you were drunk driving.”

Gavin salutes in playful mockery. “Yessir.”

Hank rolls his eyes. A car stops just in front of them and it takes Reed a few blinks to realize it’s Hank’s piece of junk, with a familiar familiar –  _ hah _ – behind the wheel.

“Hello, Detective.” Connor greets him when Hank slides in.

Hank must’ve texted him without him noticing, or they share one of those weird mind links only a perfect match of witch and familiar ever have. And somehow that thought is more depressing than Gavin wants to admit. He doesn’t greet Connor back, it’s against his asshole-code, and instead keeps his attention to his drinking-buddy.

“You suck, Anderson. Fuck off already, and don’t ever tell me any details  _ ever _ again.”

Hank gives him the finger and he gets a curious look from Connor before the door is pulled shut and they’re off. The Detective watches them take a turn on the next crossing before he shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders back towards the precinct. He wouldn’t leave his car there, and he feels sober enough to drive the few blocks it takes to his crappy apartment building. He plugs in his earbuds and plays some tunes from his phone, walking with the beat until he eventually reaches the dark parking lot of the precinct. He keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings but doesn’t see another living soul that could witness his mildly intoxicated state. He mouths the lyrics, worries forgotten for the night as he slips into his car. A flash of blue makes him halt in his spot, trying to locate where he’d seen it. The light from inside his car barely reaches far enough to see the shadowed form perched between two patrol cars, watching him with those big, stunning blue eyes like usual. Gavin smirks at his friend, even waves at him because he feels like it.

“You wanna come?”, he asks like so many times before, beckoning him with a nod to the side. And for some crazy moment he thinks this night is going to be special. That the black feline would come forth, reluctant at first but muster enough courage to hop over Gavin’s lap and onto the passenger seat and lazily blink at him with those soul-searching eyes. Seconds tick by with Gavin still holding the door open in invitation before he realizes how stupid this all is. Huffing out a breath he shuts the door and heads off, trying not to be disappointed and deliberately ignoring the gaze that follows him on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are killing me ... sigh.... I hope I'll get the next chapter out soon!


End file.
